Free Conflicted (Undercover #2) by Helena Newbury

retrieve my heels. I picked my way carefully past the glass on the floor and looked up and down the empty companionway. It was late at night, now, and the yacht was silent apart from the throb of the engines. Where would he go, if he wanted to be alone?
    I headed upstairs and out onto the deck.
    Immediately, I knew I’d made a mistake. The cold was like a physical thing, as if someone was jamming knives into my exposed arms and face. I gasped and saw my breath as a rising cloud. I was going to freeze out there in just a few minutes. But I could at least have a look for him before heading back inside.
    The yacht was moving fast across ocean that looked as still as black glass. The moon was out and there was no land in sight. I felt my insides shrink down to nothing at the thought of how alone I was out here. No backup. No police. No one who could help me.
    I saw him standing at the rail, right at the prow of the yacht. What if I was wrong about him? What if he was still mad and he just tossed me over the side in his rage?
    I remembered how I’d felt, after the accident. How I’d shut down and closed everyone out. I’d functioned, but not lived. Luka seemed to be the opposite: he lived like a king, went to clubs, had a string of girlfriends...and yet, when I looked in his eyes, he didn’t look happy. He looked trapped.
    I took a deep breath...and moved towards him.

 
     
     
     
     
     

     
     
    When I was still ten feet away, and with him still staring out to sea, he suddenly snapped, “What are you doing out here?”
    I caught my breath and stopped where I was. “I just came to talk.”
    He shook his head, still not turning around. “Go to bed.”
    I took a tentative step towards him. “Luka—”
    “Got to bed!” he roared.
    I stood stock still in the middle of the freezing deck. He was pushing me away, closing me out. Just as he’d shut out Elena and Natalia and Svetlana, I realized.
    I’d thought the same as his guards: that he was a callous womanizer, using them and dumping them. What he’d actually done was break up with them before they could get too close.
    This is perfect, a little voice inside me thought. I know about the crates, now. I have the batch numbers. I’ll find out more at the meeting, tomorrow. He’ll dump me when we get back to Moscow, I report to Adam and I can go home. Everything will go back to normal.
    All I had to do was turn around and walk back to the stateroom. Mission accomplished.
    I stood there for long seconds. And then I said, “No.”
    He turned to face me. “What?”
    “No.”
    He stared at me, his eyes narrowed in anger. I could see the years of rage that had been building up inside him, slowly poisoning him. “Arianna,” he grated. “Go to bed.”
    “No.” I walked over to him before he could stop me. He had time for a single angry yell before I threw my arms around him and pressed my face to his chest.
    This is it, I thought. If I’m wrong about him, this is where he smashes my head against the rail and throws my body over.
    I could feel his chest moving in big, powerful heaves as he fought with his anger. I squeezed him, willing him to pour some of the anger into me, to let me soothe him.
    After long seconds, his breathing slowed. “What are you doing?” he asked.
    “Trying to calm you down,” I said into his chest.
    He took a long, strangled breath. “ Why?!”
    I gently moved back so that I could look up into those big, beautiful, pain-filled eyes. “Because I like you,” I told him. And the knowledge that it was true was like a bomb going off in my chest.
    “You know what I am, now,” he said. “I told you at the party that I’m a monster. Now you know what sort.”
    I took a deep breath. “You told me the truth for a reason,” I said slowly.
    He broke away from me and twisted, staring out to sea. Those massive shoulders were like a wall between us, but I kept talking. “You could have left me in Moscow and I’d never have known. You wanted